


I Thought I Could Handle It

by Jemzamia



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemzamia/pseuds/Jemzamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell underestimates the strength of his addiction, leading to devastating consequences.</p><p>Written as a part of comment_fic. Warnings: Character death</p><p>Written in 2009 and imported from my Livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought I Could Handle It

"I thought I could handle it," Mitchell told Annie. Her arms were wrapped around his left shoulder as she rested her chin dejectedly on the other, for once offering Mitchell comfort rather than receiving it, as they sat together on the sofa.

"I mean I was getting better. I honestly felt like I didn't need blood anymore. I could even help Nina out with patients a lot more. Their heart monitors no longer sounded like teasing kids to me. They were just machines doing their job!"

Mitchell's voiced wavered at the optimism he once had. Annie just screwed her eyes shut and tightened her bear hug around him. She hated seeing her friend like this, but she knew that she would have to carry on hating it for sometime as this would not pass easily or quickly. Mitchell went silent and began to sob, gripping Annie's wrist, using the contact as a mental anchor as he was submerged in the events of a few hours ago.

The house had been empty. Annie's new found confidence had led her to go out more often and find more ghosts. Mitchell and George had the place to themselves, and after the emotional heart to heart they shared together on the way home from the hospital, they were not going to pass this opportunity. In fact they seized it immediately, as soon as they walked through the door. George shoving Mitchell back against it, kissing him frantically as fast fingers worked on buttons and ripped off clothes. 

Too eager to make it upstairs, they settled for the living room floor, with George lying down as Mitchell clambered over him, using his tongue to trace trails over his partner from top to bottom. This made wolf inside George whimper rather than howl, as such tender care was put into the evocative act. The sound caused Mitchell to smile; adding a gentle graze of teeth to the proceedings, feeling the excitement in George pump through him. 

Kissing fiercely, fully entangled now, George's body was singing to Mitchell. It contained everything he desired; the wonder of his best friend, the beauty of him, scars as an emblem of what he was and...blood. The luscious crimson liquid that was pouring through George's veins as he writhed beneath him, fully engrossed in pleasure.

Writhing soon became frantic, but Mitchell didn't notice it, if he had then he wouldn't be the blubbering mess being held by Annie right now. If only he had listened to the choking and the screams. The pleading to stop and the hitting to make him do so. If only Mitchell had opened his eyes, to see the red pool that was spilling across the wooden floor, or the life fading away from George's eyes.

"If only," Mitchell whispered, as he and Annie stared at the limp corpse of their friend laid before them, staring lifelessly back.


End file.
